


we gather each other up

by nevershootamockingbird



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevershootamockingbird/pseuds/nevershootamockingbird
Summary: Fjord laughs, and squeezes her hand again. Her fingers twitch against his, and he doesn’t let go.In the morning, she’ll still be holding on. So will he.
Relationships: Fjord & Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 34
Kudos: 154





	we gather each other up

**Author's Note:**

> This is set immediately after episode 92. Light spoilers, so if you don't know what happened, don't read. 
> 
> There is no mention of abuse in this. I promise, I would have tagged for it if there was. If there is anything that you feel like I need to tag, though, please feel free to tell me. 
> 
> This episode was deeply, intensely emotional for me, for a number of reasons. I knew I had to write this as soon as it ended. I hope that you like it, and that it can offer you some kind of catharsis if you need it. 
> 
> Fjord can't sleep, after Kamordah, after the Lionett family. He's there to help Beau pick up the pieces when she shatters again.

Beau is small in her sleep, that night. 

She’s curled up tight into herself, none of the usual sprawling limbs or quiet snores that Fjord has come to associate with her. Her muscles are still tense, shoulders rigid and hunched up to her damn jaw even in unconsciousness; her hands are formed into tight fists in front of her chest, as though to protect her heart. 

Fjord rubs the heel of his palm across his sternum, willing away the ache that hasn’t disappeared since he watched Beau come face to face with her mother. 

The rain is muffled against the dome above them, the air around them cool. Despite the shitty weather, he’s grateful they all agreed to camp just outside of Kamordah. He doesn’t want Beau to spend another damn second in the shitty place. 

“No.” It’s quiet, barely more than an exhale, but his attention is drawn back to Beau, slight tremors working through her body as her brow furrows. Her eyes are still shut, and Fjord knows that she’s still asleep, dreaming now. Her breathing comes faster, quiet whines of distress that make him grit his teeth, make his fingers curl involuntarily against his sleep shirt. 

He thinks, given half a chance, he’ll punch her father in the face if they ever meet again, consequences be damned. 

“No,” again, bitten out, and then Beau is sitting upright with a strangled gasp, one hand flying to her throat and the other reaching out in front of her, grasping at the air. 

A phantom bolt of pain throbs at his neck as he thinks of what memory she might be fighting off. 

“Beau,” he whispers, grateful that he placed his bedroll next to hers. She seems not quite awake, not reacting to his voice just yet, but he doesn’t touch her, just clears his throat quietly and tries again, “Beau, it’s not real anymore. Can you hear me?”

He watches her blink once, twice before her eyes slide into focus, hands slowly falling into her lap as she turns her head towards him. It hurts to hear her sound so small, so damn _young_ when she asks, “Fjord?”

“Hey,” he offers, some measure of relief blooming behind his breastbone. Beau is still shaking, he realizes, and it’s easier to shuffle a little closer, slide one of his extra blankets around her shoulders. “You know where we are?”

“Yeah, uh. Yeah, we’re outside Kamordah.” Her movements are a little slow and uncoordinated as she tugs the blanket closer around herself, whatever adrenaline that pulled her awake now bleeding away, and Fjord rubs a hand over her back tentatively, splays it big between her shoulder blades. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever realized how small Beau really is. 

“Why-” and maybe she just cuts herself off, maybe her voice sticks in her throat, but she shuts her mouth with a click and swallows hard, looking down at her lap before sniffling. When she glances back up at him, Fjord sees that her cheeks are damp. “Why are you still awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep, I felt uneasy,” he tells her, honest and sincere, keeps his voice soft so as not to wake the others. He doubts that the monk wants anyone else seeing her like this. She stays quiet, so Fjord takes a deep breath and risks asking, “Did you have a dream?”

“You know I did,” comes her answer, quiet and immediate, and there’s an attempt at a biting tone but it falls flat around how watery her voice, the tears still rolling down her face. Beau shuts her mouth, working her jaw for a moment before offering, “It was him. My dad.”

She pauses, then, looking unsure, and Fjord swallows the sour taste in his mouth, shaking his head. He presses his hand a little more heavily against his back as he says, “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll listen, if you’d like, but you don’t have to. You don’t need to relive that.” 

The relieved look on her face makes his eyes sting. 

“Thanks,” she tells him, and it’s quiet but it’s sincere, he can tell after months of travelling together, months of being her friend. Months of being her family, too. 

Months of being her family, and it hurts to think that this, adventuring with a small group, risking her life again and again, has probably been the healthiest, best time of her life. 

“Your face is leaking again,” he says instead of voicing his thoughts, because if he starts now he’ll cry, and he doesn’t know that she needs to analyze anything right now. He lifts his other hand to her face, knuckles swiping over her tears, and Beau’s answering chuckle is watery but it’s real, and he thanks the Wildmother that he can provide her any kind of comfort. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” she tells him, parroting their conversation from only two days ago, and he smiles warmly, wiping at the other side of her face gently before dropping his hand away. Fjord leaves his right hand on her back, a gentle point of contact, wants her to know that she’s not alone. He’s a little taken aback when she cuts her gaze away suddenly, cheeks growing a little ruddy as she shifts closer to him. “Will you- um, you don’t have to but, like, if you can’t sleep anyway, uh- fuck. Will you stay up with me?”

“Of course,” and he says it immediately, can’t think of saying anything else. 

He can’t think of ever saying anything else. Not to her. 

Beau lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping forward, and there’s a small smile on her face when she looks back up at him, eyes still a little damp but voice steady as she says, “Thanks.”

“Of course, Beau. You’re still my first mate, after all,” and her grin grows even as she swallows thickly, even as another few tears roll down her cheeks. Fjord throws caution to the wind and slides the hand on her back around to her far shoulder, tugging her gently in against his side.

Beau comes easily, her head falling against his shoulder as she relaxes into him. Fjord rubs his palm gently over her arm, the thick fabric of the blanket warm and soft. She may have just told him, but it still set something like happiness curling gently at his mouth when she says, “You’ll always be my captain.”

“And you’ll always be my family,” he counters softly, risks setting his cheek down on her hair, and he hears another sniffle but Beau just scoots a little closer, body growing heavier against him. Fjord smiles, squeezing her gently before asking, “Want to hear about some of the pranks I used to pull on my ship?”

“Yeah,” and the word comes out a little broken, but Fjord doesn’t call her on it. 

He’s a little broken, too. He can’t fix Beau, but he doesn’t want to. He just wants to help her find her own peace. 

“Well, there was this time we managed to trick Vandran into thinking half the crew just up and vanished overnight, in the middle of the sea,” he starts, and he doesn’t stop until Beau is limp against him, snoring quietly and drooling on his shirt. 

Fjord smiles, and carefully lays her down onto her own bedroll, tucking the blankets around her. It only takes him a few minutes to get comfortable, eyes finally drooping and mind calm enough that he thinks he’ll finally be able to drift off. 

A hand curls around his wrist, and he looks to the right, sees Beau blinking at him blearily. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” he murmurs back, gently wiggling from her grip so he can catch her palm in his own hand, squeezing gently. “I’ve always got you. We all do.”

“Yeah. I know,” she whispers, voice gone a little tight, eyes soft and unfocused, and then she’s gone again, slipping back into unconsciousness with a god-awful snore, right in his face. 

Fjord laughs, and squeezes her hand again. Her fingers twitch against his, and he doesn’t let go. 

In the morning, she’ll still be holding on. So will he. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I did my best to keep the characterization for these two as true as possible. Their friendship means so fucking much to me. 
> 
> Title is from "Angels of the Get-Through" by Andrea Gibson. I was talking with some friends on discord about how the poem fit the brjeaus extremely well yesterday, and, well. This line was a little too perfect not to use. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading! You can find me over on [tumblr](https://nevershootamockingbird.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/daleytwin1) if you feel like yelling with me about these characters, this show, or, you know, anything else!


End file.
